


Blue eyes and incredible cheekbones

by Rojia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rojia/pseuds/Rojia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I saw a gif set of Sherlock looking saucy and John drinking tea and looking lost, so I decided to write the convo they were having, and it wound up being them discussing sexuality, and yeah.  Sorry for the lame / crapy / weirdness of this.</p></blockquote>





	Blue eyes and incredible cheekbones

John ran his fingers over the smooth porcelain handle of the tea cup on the table beside his chair, he wasn't really all that thirsty but the idea of the tea had seemed a good one at the time. He liked the warmth of it, the feel of it under his fingers but he had no desire now to drink it, a shame really it was a good brand of tea. His eyes went back and forth across the front page of the Daily Mirror which had caught his attention while he was out, the annoyed looking man printed across it shoving through the crowd of photographers was familiar but he couldn't seem to place him. 

He was older but good looking, in the sort of way that a woman who was once a middle but was now in her fifties was, with green eyes and a well defined jaw but still he was somehow impossible to place. Was he in politics or on the telly? Maybe he was in movies? He wondered if Sherlock would know his name, or at the very least where he recognized him from.

The paper wobbled a little as he looked over the top of it and Sherlock glanced up from the book he was reading for only a second before going back to the page. He watched the other man, trying to decide if he was willing to put up with the cynicism that would come from asking. Before he could form the question however the light jingle that was his text message alert and he pulled his phone from his pocket to check it. A message from Anne, nothing important really, just a question about them having dinner the next night and the tenth one at that, but the exasperated sound from Sherlock caused him to look up, “What?”

Sherlock looked at him for a moment then back down to his book, “Nothing.”

“Sherlock.” 

The man looked up at him and then rolled his eyes, “Judging by that simpering smile on your face and the number of times that phone has gone off you're talking to Anne, again.” He looked at the other man for a few moments and then turned his eyes back tot he book.

“Is there something wrong with that?” John asked, the phone sitting forgotten in his hand for a moment as he watched the dark haired man reading as if he were somehow alien to him. Of course he knew what Sherlock meant, the mere fact that John left the apartment at all irked him let alone when he left for extended periods of time or if he brought someone over. 

“There's nothing inherently wrong with it.” Sherlock answered, closing the book on his finger and shifting a little in his seat. “I just don't understand it.”

John waited for some kind of explanation but he knew it wouldn't come. “You don't understand why she's texting me or you don't understand why I'm talking to her at all or...?”

Sherlock gave him that look that vaguely told him he was an idiot. “Of course not, if you want to be in a relationship you're more then welcome to, you're an adult after all, the instant attraction two people have based solely on physical appearance.”

John stared at him and shifted the paper on his lap, “Well how else are you supposed to get interested in someone enough to approach them? Liking the way they look makes you more willing to walk up to someone and risk rejection...”

“Yes, yes John, I understand the chemistry, but that's not what I mean.” He dropped the book onto the table beside his own chair and leaned back in it, crossing his legs. “Why should it matter what someone looks like, rather then, let's say, who they are. Their mind, John, that's what should matter. Let someone be a man, woman, ugly, fat, thin, blue for all I care, as long as they themselves are interesting!”He stood up suddenly and began to move around the room, “I've met men that I've found more interesting then women and ugly women more interesting then any attractive ones.”

John shook his head as his flat-mate wondered around the living area, “It shouldn't, and that's the truth of it Sherlock, but a pleasant face to go with a pleasant personality isn't asking too much I don't think. Why are you even on about this, what suddenly brought up the idea of attraction?”

“You.” He answered, stopping and staring at the smiley face he had painted on the wall and shot several times, “And Anne of course.” He added the latter as an afterthought, folding his arms across his back for a few seconds before he turned back to John. “If a pleasant face is all you need to go along with a good mind then what about me?” 

John wasn't sure if he was being serious or just asking to ask, as the thought that Sherlock cared one bit about anyone's sexuality was a bit frightening. He had never shown any interest, although he had mentioned at one point that women weren't 'his area' but had adamantly denied being gay. Something about the thought of Sherlock being interested in anyone in that way was a bit offsetting, even given The Woman and her apparently popular opinion of the two of them. “It's sad that it isn't that way, but it should be that simple, it really should.”

“If it's that simple then why would anyone, man or woman, be turned off by a gender or race or appearance? It should all just be about if they're interesting enough to be bothered with.” Sherlock butted in, all but ignoring him, “I have very blue eyes and impeccable cheek bones that compliment my dazzling intellect and sparkling wit, shouldn't that be enough for anyone?” As he finished his short lived rant he dropped himself back into his chair, staring at John with a questioning look, turning his head slightly and raising his eyebrows. “I had a man tell me as much once, kept trying to kiss me that one, a bit odd really...” He slipped into an absent mumbling at that and picked his book back up and opened it again, utterly ignoring him again.

John had watched and listened and followed him with his eyes until he landed himself back in his seat, and he couldn't help but snort at the question. “Why... cheekbones... dazzeling intellect... I... men and... tried... tried to kiss you?” He stopped himself sputtering on after a moment and reached absently for the tea on his small table, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. It was cold, and all the sweetness the small scoop of sugar he put into it had sunk to the bottom leaving in bitter and strangely grainy. He pulled a face but Sherlock didn't look up, even as he set the cup down and ran his fingers over the handle again, slowly bringing the paper back up in front of his face and turning his eyes back to it, deciding in that moment to pretend like he did with so many of their conversations that this had never happened.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a gif set of Sherlock looking saucy and John drinking tea and looking lost, so I decided to write the convo they were having, and it wound up being them discussing sexuality, and yeah. Sorry for the lame / crapy / weirdness of this.


End file.
